


Marry Me?

by yikesola



Series: Commissions [5]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, Introspection, M/M, proposal fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-12 22:43:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20572142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yikesola/pseuds/yikesola
Summary: Dan isn’t sure why he gets it in his head to propose over a video. But once it’s in there, he can’t quite shake it.A fic about traditions and scripts.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was a commissioned piece for [oriharakaoru](http://oriharakaoru.tumblr.com/) 💞

Dan isn’t sure why he gets it in his head to propose over a video. But once it’s in there, he can’t quite shake it. 

It takes a while for Dan to feel sure he even wants to do a proposal at all. 

And anyway... it’s not a _proposal_ proposal. That is, it’s not the sort of proposal one does in the fireworks at Disneyworld or during a family reunion while everyone’s wearing their Sunday best. Public and with a spotlight and impersonal while being performative. It’s not the sort of proposal that takes the person being proposed to completely by surprise. Those are, well. They’re messy. They’re not the best way to begin a life journey with someone. 

But Dan isn’t proposing that he and Phil begin a life journey anyway— they’re on that journey already, they started it ages ago and have chosen every single day to keep it up. This is just about another element. A permanent, legal element. A celebratory we’re-out-and-open-and-look-how-in-love-we-are element. For themselves, for their friends and family. For the tax break. This is about a wedding they can afford to be gaudy with; this is about a marriage they’re ready to start. And Dan knows it because they talk to each other. They talk to each other about what’s going on in their heads and their hearts and what their future looks like. They talk to each other about everything. 

In the very beginning, years and years ago now, they talked about why the idea of marriage didn’t appeal to them much. Dan, because of the shit example his parents’ marriage set. Phil because of a keen understanding from age twelve that he didn’t want the only sort of marriage being offered legally. And things are different now. Dan has seen many marriages that don’t reflect that of his parents. The UK has changed its laws. What they were once afraid to let themselves want, they realise might actually be something their future holds. 

So Dan proposing isn’t so much a caving to heteronormative traditions— a man proposing to another man wouldn't ever be that _anyway_, he tells himself— but just another bullet point in the long long conversation of what they’re doing in this life together. 

And he gets it in his head to do it in a video for a few reasons, a few small reasons that add up enough to convince him to do it. One, the cheesiness. Proposals really ought to have an element of cheesiness, right? 

Two, he’s less likely to get tongue-tied considering he can do as many takes as he needs. He can make sure he says everything he wants to. 

Three, he wants to beat Phil to the punch. They talk enough about the future to know proposing has been on Phil’s mind; if Dan takes as long to make this video as he does any of his others, he’ll be the proposee instead of the proposer. Which is fine, but he anticipates 50+ years of banter along the lines of “You should’ve never asked me to marry you,” when one of them wins a game, or “It’s what you agreed to when I proposed,” when they quibble about who has to take out the bins. He just wants to determine which jokes he’ll be making. 

Dan seizes the opportunity of Phil spending a weekend with his parents. Dan stayed behind for a meeting with the BBC but has nothing else planned for the time alone. Nothing except working on a proposal video. 

He borrows Phil’s filming setup, the chair and white wall and bookshelf he helped assemble that’s covered in various trinkets. He borrows it partially because he doesn’t want to bother deciding on a background of his own. And partly because there’s something symbolic there, about sliding into Phil’s space the way he did when they met. He doesn’t write a script. This, he thinks, has to feel more natural. 

The plan is to film and edit what should genuinely be a short and to-the-point video, and ask Phil to take a look at it once he’s back home. Ask for some of those famous editing tips or whatever, and sit beside him while he watches. He’s not going to have a ring or anything, he likes the idea of them going to pick out their rings together. He’s not going to get down on one knee or ask Nigel for permission. 

He’s basically saying screw all traditions that aren’t Dan and Phil approved. Videos are approved. Being simultaneously low key and dramatic is approved. 

There are forty solid minutes stood before his wardrobe which Dan spends contemplating what shirt to wear. He decides on the red and white hoodie which Phil spent an entire evening watching YouTube tutorials on fancy bows for so he could make up for the fact that he untied it. It’s still not exactly the same, but Dan could hardly stay annoyed with him for long. 

His curls are as good as they’re going to be considering he keeps fiddling with them in unnecessary nerves. He can see his rosy patch in the viewfinder, very rosy. 

Dan spends what feels like ages simply sitting in Phil’s chair and staring straight into the lens. He hadn’t wanted to feel stiff or confined to a script, and now he’s stuck unsure of just how to start. “Hello, Internet” isn’t applicable— this isn’t a normal video, this isn’t for the internet. This is for Phil. And “Hello, Phil” feels like the beginning of a villain monologue or something for reasons he can’t fully justify. 

He has a thought. A somewhat wicked little thought. A thought he isn’t fully convinced he’ll leave in the final video; it’s just as likely he’ll edit it out, but hell he just needs something to get him started. Then he can go on about how much Phil means to him and how much light he brings to his life, about how proud he is of the man Phil has become and how much he owes the person he’s grown into to the years they’ve spent together, how he drives him mad and how he hopes he never stops, how Phil’s mind amazes him, how Phil’s ass amazes him, how they’ve been through absolute shit together and come out clean and how he wants to do that again and again and again for all their days… all that very true stuff that feels like too much to actually say, but fuck he’ll find some way to do it. 

Maybe all he’ll need to say is, “I love you, Phil. Let’s get married.” 

But first, he needs to start. 

He clears his throat, takes a deep breath. He looks into the lens, laughs at how dumb this opening is, and says, “Awrf, hi Phil!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading— come say hi on [tumblr](http://yikesola.tumblr.com/post/187587746704/marry-me) !


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil’s phone buzzes in his hand, so quickly it’s as though Dan had been texting him all the while. “_yeah sorry_” Dan sends, “_busy filming_”  
A fic about home and spacebars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a commissioned piece for [oriharakaoru](http://oriharakaoru.tumblr.com/) 💞

There’s a dozy sort of cosiness that comes with visiting home, especially now that these visits aren’t the harrowing ones of years past which were coloured with fear and doctors and plaster smiles. These visits home serve a very different purpose now— just to say hello, just to spend a little time outside the city, just to be spoiled with fresh warm cakes and game nights and wine. The good wine; wine more expensive than Phil ever bothers with at home because by the second glass even cheap wine tastes the same. Or, at least, the drunk tongue is less discerning. But his parents always have nice wine, the kind you savour, the kind you lie about and say you can pick up on the oaky notes. 

Phil likes these visits, likes making them often for a myriad of reasons, one being that his parents look exactly the same as they did three months ago when he visited last. He’d like the visit even more if Dan had been able to join him, but he finds comfort in the fact that Dan’s reason for being in London is so vastly different from what it used to be. 

It was a perfectly good reason, this time. A meeting with the BBC, something promising, something Phil knows Dan deserves. 

In years gone by the reason would’ve been more muddled. What to do if a fan saw them at the airport, on the beach, in town as the family was sat somewhere for brunch? What do they say then? How often can a platonic mate tag along to visit his totally platonic mate’s parents? Worries that were real worries then, a lifetime ago, yet not all that long ago…

And though Phil knows that meeting wasn't something worth missing or rescheduling, this sunset from his parents’ bay window really seems like something Dan ought to see. He snaps a photo on his phone; it hardly does the sight justice. It’s still nice though. He sends it. 

Dan doesn’t text him back, but Phil doesn’t expect an answer right away. He expects Dan to be buried so deeply in _Guild Wars_ that his eyes burn. Still, when an hour goes by with no response, he sends another text. “_mum’s insisting on sending me with two cakes minimum. Pick a berry, Howell, and tell her thank you_” 

Still no response twenty minutes later when he sends Dan a picture of an old family photo of his great-great-somethings who pose as though they’re a meme. 

Still no response an hour after that when he sends a text bragging about putting a hotel on each yellow property in _Monopoly_. 

The constant churn of worry that comes along with an anxious brain isn’t thrilled by this silence. Because there’s always the possibility that something horrible has happened. And, if not horrible, there’s the possibility that Dan is neglecting his self care by not emerging from virtual world for too many hours, water be damned and bathroom trips be damned and walking entirely out of the question. He doesn’t need a play-by-play of Dan’s every moment apart from him. He just wants to know he’s alright. 

So he sends that, hoping that even over text the tone is casual enough. “_Alright?_”

Finally, his phone buzzes in his hand, so quickly it’s as though Dan had been texting him all the while. “_yeah sorry_” Dan sends, “_busy filming_” 

That surprises Phil. He didn’t think any of Dan’s half-finished scripts were ready to be filmed. Still, he’s glad Dan is busy, and working, and not dismembered in a ditch somewhere or whatever horrible thing supposedly happens to anyone who isn’t heard from in several hours. 

“_and i pick raspberry_,” Dan texts before Phil ask what’s being filmed. 

“_I’ll tell her_” Phil sends. 

“_i’ll thank her_” Dan promises. “_love you_”

“_Miss you_”

“_miss your face_”

“_Miss your mum_”

“_you can visit her when you’re done visiting your own, greedy bastard!_”

When Phil glances up from his phone, he can feel the great goofy grin on his face. Martyn’s knowing eye roll from the other side of the room confirms it. 

*

The car ride from the airport feels long. Not as long as the train used to take, all those years ago when getting Dan back in his arms took hours and hours and hours. But longer than he’d like. He just wants to bury his nose in those soft curls, breathe him deep, know he’s home. 

He’s an elemental sort of tired after a few days of being spoiled; he wants his own bed. He wants the city noises now that the rhythm of the sea is out of his ears. 

Dan doesn’t seem tired at all, Phil realizes when he walks into the flat. He’s buzzing, he’s got his arms round Phil before they even get the doors closed. “Missed you too,” Phil laughs, a little surprised by the eagerness but not about to complain. Dan’s energy alone is enough to make him feel less tired, and he gets to bury his face in Dan’s curls like he’d wanted— he’s home. It’s so fucking good to be home.

Dan moves to kiss him, moves to have Phil take a few steps back until he’s pressed against the doorway. He feels his backpack getting squeezed. “You’ll crush the cakes my mum so lovingly sent along,” Phil says laughing, pushing Dan away just long enough to set the bag aside. 

They greet each other properly now that his hands are free. It had only been a few days they’d spent apart, but hell when has that ever stopped them from reuniting like it’s been months? 

Phil’s flight had been late, the traffic had been slow, and they took their time once they made their way to their bed. All that to say, by the time they lay with the sheets kicked to the floor, catching their breath and feeling the sweat slowly dry tacky on their skin, it’s nearly midnight. But Phil isn’t tired anymore, somehow. 

He’s replaying in his head over and over again the sound Dan makes when Phil does that thing with his wrist, when Dan lifts a hand up to Phil’s face. He’s tracing the sharp slopes of his cheeks, his nose, his jaw, like a blind man mapping him out. Phil lets him, doesn’t flinch. It feels nice. 

Dan has a crease between his brow that Phil recognizes, a hint that he wants to say something but is holding back. Phil waits patiently. He figures Dan wants to say something about the BBC meeting, something he hadn’t wanted to say over Skype. Or maybe Dan wants to say he missed Phil, and knows Phil would tease him for being a sap despite feeling the same exact way. Or maybe it’s something else, something that doesn’t matter but he’s still hesitant to say. Or something that matters very much. 

Phil is patient. He breathes steadily and reaches for Dan’s hand that is still tracing along his face and kisses the palm. 

“You wanna sleep?” Dan asks.

Phil shakes his head. 

“You hungry?”

He laughs. “Hi, have we met? I’m Phil Lester, always hungry.” 

Dan grabs the pillow from under his head and smacks Phil’s chest with it. “Get dressed then,” he says, sitting up and getting dressed as well. 

They order takeaway burgers and Phil answers the door despite his emoji pyjamas because Dan is only wearing black pants and that red hoodie he’d picked up on tour. Before he goes to answer the door, he leans forward and tugs to untie the fancy bow on Dan’s sweater just to see his scandalized face. 

When he comes back, burgers and milkshakes in hand, he sets them down to retie the bow and is forgiven even if Dan smiles crookedly that he’ll pay for that. 

Phil notices the crease is back between Dan’s brows as they eat. Again, he doesn’t say anything. It’s Dan who says, as he leans over to steal a fry from Phil’s bag, “Can I get some of those sweet sweet editing tips after we eat? A little production assistance?” 

“Oh yeah,” Phil nods, “you filmed this weekend! Any good?” He tries to keep a straight face when he speaks because Dan’s mock offence when he asks that is always funnier if he does. 

Instead of mock offence though, Dan blushes. “I think so,” he shrugs. “You’ll see.”

That’s interesting. Phil’s cheek is quirking into a smile. He’s not sure which of the half-finished scripts Dan’s been working on would make him blush— he hadn’t thought any of them would. Maybe this is something else entirely. 

*

After they clean up their wrappers and wash their greasy hands, Dan hands Phil his laptop and curls up next to him on the sofa. Phil loves this, how their bodies slot together in all ways, this time with Dan slotting into Phil’s side and his bare legs under a blanket. 

It isn’t a long video. That confuses Phil right away, but then he thinks maybe he’s only looking at a chunk of footage right now before Dan moves on to the meat of it. Dan’s wearing the same hoodie, and he’s sat in Phil’s filming chair, which just adds to Phil’s confusion, but he clicks play anyway. Dan’s face is buried in his ribs. 

The Dan in the video looks nervous, excited with high colour and glittering eyes, but nervous because he’s taking a deep breath. Then there’s a huff of a laugh, and he looks right into the lens and says, “Awrf, hi Phil!” 

Phil taps the spacebar instinctually, pausing the video. 

He’s not sure why he paused it. He’s not sure why Dan said that. He’s not sure why his heartbeat is going crazy. 

Dan doesn’t sit up, but he loops his arm around Phil’s. “Play it,” he says, a crack in his voice. “Please.” 

Phil taps the spacebar again. The Dan in the video doesn’t talk again for a while though, just laughs at himself and runs a hand through his curls until they frizz. “I love you,” he says. The Dan sat beside him sits up a little straighter, until his head is resting on Phil’s shoulder. “I love you so fucking much, Phil.” 

Then Dan reaches over and hits the spacebar himself. “I meant to say loads more,” he says, still looking at the laptop though Phil has turned to face him. “I kinda ramble on like this for a while longer. I… the words— I do better with a script. But I didn’t write a script.” 

The gears in Phil’s stunned brain have almost worked out exactly what Dan’s getting at. He threads his fingers with Dan’s and presses the spacebar again. The Dan in the video does ramble, like the Dan who sits beside him said he would. Not for very long, under a minute, but Phil thinks every second is a hundred heartbeats even though he knows that would mean he’s dead. And he’s not dead. Far from it. 

The rambles are very nice things, stitched between the mixture of “er” and “um” and throat clearing that he makes. Nice things about Phil, things he loves about Phil. He thinks he knows what’s coming, but he still gasps when it’s actually said. 

“Let’s get married,” he hears the Dan in the video say. It sounds like he’s hearing it from underwater, but that’s probably just the result of the anxious blood running so quickly through his body that he can hear it thundering in his ears. “Marry me, Phil? I love you. Let’s get married.” 

The video ends and they both seem to have turned to stone, despite their heavy breathing. Why are they breathing so heavily? They haven’t moved, yet something feels ascended. 

Dan sits up, nervous but bashfully smiling. “You in?” he says. 

Phil leans forward and kisses him. The kiss is interrupted by a laugh, but that’s really the only forgivable interruption. “Proposed with a video, you cheesy goober,” Phil says, still laughing and kissing. There’s even a tear or two he hadn’t expected and only notices because soon the kiss tastes a little like salt. 

“That’s a yes?” Dan asks. He looks almost afraid to ask. 

Phil pulls him closer, kisses him again. He kisses his cheek, his forehead, his nose. “I thought it was obvious,” he says. “That’s a yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading— come say hi on [tumblr](http://yikesola.tumblr.com/post/187678748664/marry-me) !


End file.
